Friday, March 4, 2011


I have not wanted to write about this. In the past three months four people we know have died. Two were older, two younger. We have been praying for them, and we pray for them still, and their families who grieve. It is a sad time to say goodbye to loved ones.

But it's also a wake up call. Am I living as I should? Am I looking to the eternal consequences of my actions? Or am I concerned with things that will not last? Because in the end, the only thing we can take to the next life is our character.

The Lenten season is approaching and we've been reading the Sermon on the Mount these past few weeks in Church. What Jesus talks about is difficult, but it is the path to holiness, to being a light.

Here's a link to the best version of This Little Light of Mine:



Bish Denham said...

Oh, so sorry for your loss. A friend of our recently died, relatively young at 66. And it is a wake up call. Anything can happen at any moment. I could "not be here" this afternoon. And so, I breathe in, breathe out, enjoy the day and give thanks.

My favorite Beatitude is Blessed are the pure in heart, for they shall see God.

I strive for a pure heart, and fail miserably....

MollyMom103 said...

I understand that urgency to not waste one precious moment of life.

This scipture comes to mind:

"I will ransom them from the power of the grave, and I will redeem them from the earth. O death, I will be thy plague; O grave, I will be thy destruction!" Hosea 13:14

This gives me great hope.

Marcia said...

I'm sorry for these losses, Vijaya. Two people we know died unexpectedly in recent months, one 62 and one 30. Both were sick for literally only days. You're so right about the wake-up call. We need to keep that balance between planning for tomorrow yet not taking it for granted.

MG Higgins said...

I've been pondering the same issues recently and am so grateful for my many blessings. Hugs to you.

Vijaya said...

Thank you all for stopping by and for your words of comfort.

Bish, we all fail miserably, but it's the striving that counts.

Molly, thank you for the Scripture. Very uplifting.

Marcia, I think unexpected deaths are even harder than the ones after a long illness. I remember praying to be taken to my eternal rest last Nov. and now so grateful for better health.

Melissa, I know you too have suffered a great loss in Lisa. Hugs right back.

Mary Witzl said...

A much older friend told me ages ago that she tried to live every day as though it could be her last. At the time, I thought that was awfully pessimistic, but now I believe it's anything but.

Living as though every day could be our last really focuses us, I think, and makes us less likely to get caught up in trivia. (And I say this as someone who has just had a fit upon finding a whole bag of chicken bones scattered all over my kitchen by hungry cats...)

Vijaya said...

Mary, as a child I never worried about my own death, but that of my mother. I'd always kiss her goodbye even if she went across the street ... She asked me once why I did this, and I told her she could die. She thought I was a morbid child. But I did appreciate her as well ... bringing wild flowers (weeds probably) and kisses.

Ah, the mundane is what grounds us, right. Our two kittens get into everything in the kitchen, including school projects ... But life is so much sweeter with them, chicken bones notwithstanding.

You mustmustmust read Laundry, Liturgy and Women's Work by Kathleen Norris. It's a gem of a book.

Anonymous said...

My sweet friend...I am sorry for your grief and loss. I love MollyMom's quote as it brings so much hope!

Mary Witzl said...

I did the same thing! And I felt exactly the same: nothing frightened me more than the idea of my mother dying. Which made her think I was a bit morbid (but, I'm hoping, in a good way).